The Hunt
by Two-Bits
Summary: Roxy Jones has a new case: She has to find runaway Jason Klein. The only problem is, she has a few suspicions about her employers. Set in present-day.
1. Default Chapter

Thanks to Jacky Higgins for BETA-ing!

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"Ah, morning, Roxy. Come here. I've got someone I want you to meet."

Roxy Jones stepped into the large, lavishly furnished office of her boss, Lloyd Brown. He motioned for her to take the only free seat, but Roxy ignored it, instead focusing her attention on the other two chairs in front of Lloyd's mahogany desk.

The man farthest from her was in his late thirties, maybe early forties with a round face and a gut to match. His small, beady eyes were laced with creases at the outer corners, but other than that, his face showed no signs of age. His hair, with its salt-and-pepper coloring, was parted on the left and he looked like a serious businessman. Judging by the sleek, three-piece Armani suit, he was loaded.

"I didn't know you hired adolescents," the other man said. Roxy snapped her gaze to him and immediately disliked him. He was in his mid-twenties with dark brown hair slicked back with too much gel. He had an easy-on-the-eyes face, a square jaw and perfectly straight pearly whites. He too wore a suit, and a Rolex watch glinted from his wrist. Judging by his pompous attitude and stature, it was obvious who was in charge.

"I'm twenty-three," Roxy replied, testily. A perfect black eyebrow raised, delicately. Roxy really couldn't blame him, but she did. With short, light brown hair and freckles across her nose, she looked sixteen at the oldest. Her stature of five foot four didn't help her cause. With a mother at four eleven, a father at five nine, and the rest of the family somewhere in between, she was lucky to be as tall as she was. Sensing the tension charging between the two, Lloyd stepped in.

"Roxy, this is Mark Barrett and Paul Klein. They're the corporate owners of Barrett & Klein in Richmond. They've got a job for you.

Roxy sat on the corner of Lloyd's desk and nodded, indicating that she was listening. Mark, the younger of the two, took his cue to explain.

"We're looking for a seventeen-year-old boy named Jason Klein." Roxy raised an eyebrow at the name.

"He's my nephew," Paul answered in a gravelly voice. Roxy nodded and turned her gaze to Mark, who was pulling a photograph out of a leather briefcase. Mark slid it across the desk, and Roxy picked it up and examined the picture.

The boy had a lean, porcelain face. He was good-looking, with blue eyes and beach-blonde hair. Half-moon glasses perched on his nose completed the angel-face with a hint of intellect.

"He ran away from home six months ago," Paul narrated.

"And where is home?" Roxy asked.

"A little town in Holland," he replied, matter-of-factly. Roxy looked up, sharply and fixed her gaze on him.

"_Holland?_" she exclaimed, her professional air dropping in surprise. Paul nodded. "Why are you coming to me?"

"Jason hopped a ship. His parents are wealthy, and they gave him a very large weekly allowance. He saved up and bought a one-way ticket," Paul said with a hint of disapproval. "He was a very spoiled boy."

"Any idea where he is?" Roxy asked, regaining her composure. Mark took over, obviously annoyed at not being the center of attention. Roxy's dislike was getting closer to loathing every second.

"Yes. Jason's father was Canadian, hence the name. He kept a bank account open with Scotiabank. Scotia has an affiliation with Maduro and Curiel's Bank N.V., which is in the Netherlands. Jason kept an account with them as well, depositing his life savings. His parents gave him a credit card to the account, which he used on his trip." He smirked, sardonically, obviously amused at the boy's naivety when it comes to running away. "He left a paper trail a mile long. He landed in a bay in Quebec, Ungava Bay. He maxed out his card traveling down Quebec. We lost him around Montréal, where he withdrew three hundred dollars and disappeared."

Roxy pondered this for a moment, glancing at the huge map on the wall and tracing Jason's path.

"No sign of him after Montréal?" she said finally, her gaze trailing toward the border between Canada and the United States.

"Not a trace. Kid finally wizened up though, because he hasn't left so much as a footprint for us to track without sending someone into the field. That's where you come in," Mark finished. Roxy crossed her legs and examined her not-quite-manicured nails.

"Where's he most likely to have gone?" she asked, addressing her gaze to Paul. Paul smirked.

"Where every immigrant goes: America." Roxy suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She knew he would go to America. The question was _where?_

"I was actually looking for specifics. Any chance he'd come to you?" Roxy asked, trying not to sound sarcastic. Paul shook his head.

"Nah. He and I hate each other. I think he's too spoiled. He wouldn't come to me. He'd go somewhere to make it big. I think it's pretty obvious: New York." Roxy nodded. It was the obvious choice. She would have thought of it if she hadn't been thinking from Virginia's perspective. New York was right beneath Quebec. It would probably only be about seven or eight hours if he took a train. Two days if he walked quickly.

"New York, huh?" Roxy thought about it. Though she was interested, there was one thing bothering her. She couldn't understand Mark's involvement. It seemed odd that he was trying to find Jason as well. This ought to have been strictly between her and the family.

She refrained from voicing her inquiries; she had a feeling that she wouldn't get a straight answer, and she'd only get into trouble. She would question Lloyd later.

"All right. I'm interested," she said. Paul looked relieved. Mark looked arrogant. Roxy fought not to sneer at him.

"How much will it cost?" Paul asked. _Depends on whose paycheck it's coming out of_, she thought to herself. What she said was, "Fifty dollars an hour, plus you'll have to cover expenses on getting to and staying in New York." Paul nodded, and the two stood up, shaking her and Lloyd's hand.

"Done. I'll get your hotel and tickets arranged, and we'll send a check tomorrow," Mark said with a toothy grin. Roxy nodded disdainfully. Mark gave her one last "winning" grin and the two men left. The instant the door was shut, Roxy turned to Lloyd.

"All right. Give me the details."


	2. Chapter 2

Shoutouts!

Nosilla: Very, very soon, dearest. Soon.

Unknown-Dreams: Yesh, Mark is evil. And yesh, it's DUTCHY!

Lil Irish OT: -blushes- Thank ye much.

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Lloyd smirked at Roxy as she sat down in a chair, swinging her legs over one armrest. "Jason Klein, seventeen, filthy-rich, and next in line to inherit the company Barrett & Klein." Roxy frowned. 

"I take it Mark and Paul aren't too happy about that," she noted. Lloyd nodded.

"Paul doesn't think he can handle it. He'd rather have someone else take over, but if it's not Jason, it's whoever Mark decides ought to take it. Paul doesn't like Mark much. Mark's father ran the company with Paul, and they'd been best friends. But John Barrett died under suspicious circumstances, and left the company to Mark. Needless to say, Paul immediately declared Jason the heir to the company." Roxy glanced at the picture of Jason.

"So why did he run away?" she asked. "A cozy home in Holland with parents who spoil him, and a company waiting for him the instant Paul kicks the bucket. What could possibly be wrong with that?" Lloyd frowned.

"That's the problem, and the reason why I suggested you when Paul called. I have no idea. Paul and Mark both claim that they don't know any reason why, and Jason's parents have refused to speak with me on the subject. I was going to have you fly up to Holland to talk to them, but I think you'd be better off going straight to Canada." Lloyd handed her a sheet of paper. "This is a list of the ship he took, its company, and every place he spent money at in Canada. You're on your own from there." Roxy nodded and examined the paper.

"When's my flight?" she asked.

"Tomorrow."

The next day, at four twenty-two, Roxy stepped off her plane in Quebec. She glanced at her list that Lloyd had given her. One thing was for sure, Jason had gone in style. He'd not simply taken a ship, but a cruise from Holland to Canada. From there he'd stayed two nights in a hotel just outside Ungava Bay. Roxy got a cab and pulled out her laptop. She did a quick search of Holland America Cruise Line and found their number.

"Hi, my name is Roxanne Jones. I was wondering if you have passenger lists of each ship?" She paused. "I'm not sure which ship, but the trip was about six months ago, leaving Holland and docking in Ungava Bay." Another pause. "All right, do you think you could send them to me?" Pause. "What do you mean, no?" Pause. "Listen, ma'am, I'm with the police. I'm a private investigator looking for a missing boy." Pause. "Listen, I _need_ that list! I'm looking for a lost kid, and I know for a fact he was on _your_ ship!" Pause. "Fine." She snapped her cell phone shut and cursed. "Change of plans," she said to the taxi driver, a balding man wearing a plastic fireman's helmet. Roxy paused to wonder about the hat, but she shook her head. "Take me to La Maison Doyon."

The driver took a left and stopped in front of the bed and breakfast after about twenty minutes' driving. She payed him and got out. Upon entering the bed and breakfast, she was met by a young girl with long brown hair pulled back in a braid and big blue eyes.

"_How may I help you?_" the girl asked. Roxy paused, and then remembered that people spoke French in Quebec.

"Uh, sorry, but I don't understand French," she said, hesitantly.

"Ah, an American. How may I help you?" Roxy smiled in relief.

"I'm a private investigator and I'm looking for a missing teenage boy who stayed here for two days about six months ago. Do you keep records of your guests?" The girl nodded.

"Of course. We have our guests sign in the day that they check in, and then sign out the day they leave." She led Roxy to the desk and disappeared under it. "Six months ago you said?"

"Yeah. In November." The girl reemerged with a black leather book.

"Do you know the date?" Roxy pulled out the paper Lloyd had given her. "Uhm...The seventeenth and eighteenth." The girl flipped to about the middle of the book.

"Here's everyone who signed in on the seventeenth." Roxy scanned the list. There was no sign of Jason's name. She pulled out the picture of Jason and showed it to the girl.

"Recognize him?" she asked. The girl's cheeks tinged pink, and she nodded.

"His name's Mikey. He was really friendly." Roxy smirked and scanned the list. There were two Michaels listed; Michael Monroe and Michael Lynn. Roxy scribbled them down quickly.

"You've been a brilliant help." Roxy glanced at her watch. "You have any vacant rooms?" The girl smiled.

"Of course. Just sign your name here," she said, shoving another black book toward Roxy. "You can have room eleven." She handed Roxy a key, which she tucked into her jeans pocket.

"Okay, thanks. I'll be back later." Roxy turned on her heel and left in search of her dinner.


End file.
